River Heart

Summer 35WF 35th Year of William Farview ‘I’m here to rescue you!’ Lyris stared at the hunched shadow, a man bent crouched down in the low cave with his knees by his ears. She didn’t believe him. ‘No, I mean it,’ the young man curbed his boisterous enthusiasm to a hiss. His hand extended through grey shadow and waited just out of reach. Her own hands burnt with cold, stiff and uncooperative as she tried to flex her fingers. She could smell blood, iron lacing the stale air that filled the nook where they’d dropped her. Voices echoed in the dark and distant tunnels that stretched underground. He’d already cut through the coarse bonds that her captures had wrapped around her wrists and ankles, but could she trust him? Metal screeched on stone and deeper within the cavern, a gate opened. They’d left her in an outer chamber and vanished into the depths of the mountain to prepare their ritual pit. Lyris had seen the pits herself, sometimes on a hillside or beside a lake. Mostly they were mossy, overgrown dips in the earth. They always felt different to natural holes and rivets in the earth and even from the smoking puddles of bubbling mud that smelt like rotten eggs and they could never be confused for anything natural. Because once you knew what you were looking for, they were always circled by stones; and the stones were always marked with blood. They’d prepared their pit and now they were coming back. The gate slammed shut behind them and the clang echoed in the dark. Lyris wet dry, cracked lips with the tip of her tongue and accepted the offered hand. Whoever he was, she hoped he was offering a better fate. Pulled to her feet she smothered a groan. Pain flashed up her legs and dropped her to her knees. They cracked on the unforgiving stone and the young woman covered her mouth with her hand before biting down on her arm to stop herself from crying out. His grip closed on her shoulder and she was forced to kneel then stand. The tall youth slid his hand beneath her waist and half-dragged, half-carried her through the twisting tunnels. Her arms and legs scraped across the walls but she lurched forward, determined that if it was the last thing she did, she would get out of their dungeon. The further she stumbled, the more feeling returned to her feet until she pushed the young man away and staggered after him. They passed a burning torch that made the shadows shiver and she saw that he wore a sword, his left hand gripping the hilt and holding the weapon in its sheaf as his right stretched forward, feeling his way through the aphotic passage as he moved beyond. Her heart raced so hard that she was certain they could hear it, but all she could hear was her the soft pad of the man running in front of her and the murmur of voices from behind. The twist of tunnels felt endless and the first shout of alarm was raised behind them. The resounding growl lifted the hairs on her arm and the back of her neck. Lyris couldn’t remember how far they’d dragged her through the dark or how long it had taken to wind through the abandoned mine. Were they lost, or did her rescuer know where he was going? Fright gnawed at her belly and made her legs tremble but she persisted. Scrabbling through the ceaseless pitch, tripping over uneven ground and arms stretched out; her fingers bruised along the craggy walls. Finally, when it seemed as though they’d been scrambling for hours, the air started to twist with sweetness and the suffocating damp began to fade. Three more uncertain strides and she broke free of the stony confines and out into the night. Lyris pulled in a desperate breath, lungs burning as though there would never be enough air in the world again. Panting she stared out, struggling to pick out features against the midnight blue sky. A handful of stars flickered through thick cloud. Wide strands of tussock grass reached her calves and tickled the skin above her boots. The sweet aroma made pungent by the dew that covered it. There was a goat track that led from the caves and split, in a steep climb to the village or a descent to the lake below. It was the kind of lake that was as deep as the surrounding mountains were high, with water that felt like ice even in the middle of summer. Beneath the slow drift of cloud over the stars and moon, she saw the mountain that rose on the far side of the water, split down the centre where the North pass cut through. ‘We’d better keep moving,’ a warm hand brushed her arm and she flinched. ‘Come on,’ he urged and gestured up the slope. Covered in moss, fern and arching birch trees that clung precariously to the landscape. ‘The road will be quicker,’ she stepped onto the crushed packed dirt that ground underfoot. ‘They’ll expect us on the road,’ he protested but Lyris turned away. With a final backward glance at the yawning mouth of the caverns she started out on the path hurrying forward. There was a pause before bootsteps followed her descent and he caught up with her, ‘this is the wrong way!’ he hissed. ‘We can be quicker,’ she replied and pulled her hand free as he tried to snatch her fingers, ‘and we’ve got a head start, we’ll get further away on the road.’ ‘And be easier to find,’ he jogged a few steps to catch her. ‘I don’t know you,’ she glanced at him but kept walking. A shaft of soft moonlight broke through the clouds and the canopy of giant ferns to light the road ahead. Barely wide enough for both her feet, she was afraid to look right and see the ground vanishing into darkness. ‘That’s it?’ He persisted and followed her. His larger feet sending gravel skidding off the narrow ledge and tumbling down the slope. Lyris risked a final glance in his direction. He was a stranger and she had no reason to trust him. Fear of the men who’d dragged her into the cave, kept her steps quick and light, arms outstretch to run along the trees and ferns to her left. Now they were out of the cavern, she tried to estimate how far she was from the border village of Warden; one or two hours perhaps? ‘You’re not even going to tell me your name?’ He’d closed the distance. Irritated, Lyris strode faster her right hand curled in her cloak to pull it tight across her body and stop it flapping and tangling in the outstretched arms of the undergrowth. ‘You’re not even going to thank me?’ ‘Not if you get us both caught!’ She rounded on him, irritated and was relieved when he stopped advancing and skidded to a halt, one long limb outstretched to hold the nearest tree. It was hard to tell with just the starlight but he seemed paler outside then he had in the cave. His eyes fixed on her forehead, unblinking. The young woman realised that the fingers curled around the thick branch were tightly gripped, as though he was clinging to his life. Surprise robbed her of her ire as she realised that he was afraid. If he’d followed her would-be murderers to the cave in day light he would have seen the steep descent down the hill. Lyris wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the hood that had covered her eyes, or if being so close to danger and not being able to see it, was worse. He’d saved her life so she drew in a deep breath, despite the pounding of her heart against her ribs. ‘I’ll tell you everything,’ it was a peace offering but he looked guarded, as though he didn’t trust her. It almost made her smile. ‘Let’s get off this dammed hillside,’ he conceded and gestured at the continuing track behind her. Lyris turned, clinging to the wide and silky leaves of a silver fern and bowed against the summer breeze. ‘It’s more of a mountain,’ she corrected him. ‘What-?’ ‘A mountain is usually far higher,’ the young woman interrupted and was reminded why people thought she was pedantic, and difficult. There was silence except for the scrap of their boots on the treacherous path before finally the youth replied; ‘that’s not helpful.’